


Show Me Hope (‘cause I've got nothing left in me)

by Elley



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Doctor and Paramedic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 12:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20242855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elley/pseuds/Elley
Summary: She’s a doctor who lost hope. He’s this new young paramedic with faith and dreams.Can he be the one to bring back her smile and optimism ?





	Show Me Hope (‘cause I've got nothing left in me)

**Author's Note:**

> Shelby, I couldn't have done this without your help and your support. Thank you so much for being the best Beta ever !
> 
> The amazing graphic was made by Nelly (@felicitymqueen on Twitter)

**Show Me Hope (‘cause I've got nothing left in me)**

**>>---> | <---<<**

The first time she cries, it’s right there, on the first step of the staircase that lead to the roof. She just went out of surgery, where she lost one. Again. It’s the fourth that month. And she knows it’s part of the job, but it’s tough. Because it’s so frequent now. She knows she’s good, and she knows she can’t always win, but she loses too often those days. And it freaking hurts. Because she wants to save those people. And just can’t find the reason why she can’t seem to succeed now. So she cries, alone on these stairs.

The first time he sees her, her head is down, her arms on her knees, and her hands are hiding her face. He knows she’s crying. He should let her be alone. Everyone needs to let go of the tension at some point. Especially in that job area. They aren’t superheroes. He doesn’t even think before going to seat down with her. Nobody should be alone on the job. Nobody should deal with all the burden it brings. So he sits here, with her, in silence. Just to be there. To let her know she’s not alone. And that it’s okay to cry. Even here.

She knows he’s here. She doesn’t talk to him and that’s okay too. They don’t have to. The way her body tense a little, and the catch of breath he ears let him know she’s aware of his presence. He likes the fact she doesn’t shy away from him. After a while, the tears are gone. She feels him more than she ears him. She doesn’t know why it doesn’t bother her he’s here when all she wanted was to be alone. She tries to focus on her breathing and just let go of the sadness she feels. She cries a little more, then the tears are gone. And he’s gone too.

**>>---> | <---<<**

The next time she cries, it’s two days later. Another patient has died on her table. So, she loses her composure. Again. She feels like a failure, and nothing can stop the waterfall from unleashing. The staircase becomes her refuge. A place to let go. Alone. Except he’s here again. Maybe he has a radar or something. She smells him more than she feels him this time. A little bit of sandalwood and citrus. And coffee. It’s surprising when all you can smell here is chemical smells and bleach. It’s appeasing too, she finds out. She’s not annoyed he’s here, not really. She just doesn’t know why he felt the need to sit with her again, in silence. But she likes the company, so she says nothing, scared he might leave and never come back. She doesn’t know who he is, even what he looks like.

He knows who she is. He’s only been here since a month ago and everyone talks about Dr Smoak. Badass trauma surgeon. A legend around the hospital. He’s just new and knows no one, but he’s heard things. About her. About her skills and the way she interacts (badly) with people. After a while, her breathing is better, and her eyes are dry. She must look like a mess, disheveled with puffy eyes and everything. Even blood on her face, she’s sure of it. She’s about to lift her head, finally, when a beeping sound cuts the silence. That’s his cue to leave.

He wants to say something this time. He came here trying to get info on a patient he brought in earlier that day. Trauma patients are his daily lot. Some more concerning than others. Sometimes, he needs to know if they’ll make it. He found her, on the same stairs, and had to sit. But her presence is making him nervous. He’s used to tense situations, but in this case, it’s unnerving. He’s not ashamed to be here, but he won’t bother her with small, meaningless talk. Twice, he takes a deep breath, but his mouth refuses to open. When he finally finds the courage to engage with her, his beeper goes off. Of course. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, cursing whatever force is behind the timing, and leaves. Before the door closes, he looks at her; her hair is a mess, and her eyes shine. She’s beautiful.

**>>---> | <---<<**

The third time, he’s already here. She just got out and needs a break. The kid on her table barely made it, and no thanks to her. She just sits on the stairs, as usual, and takes a deep breath. “Tough day ?” he says, not looking at her. His voice is deep, unsurprisingly soothing.

She answers a breathy “Yeah” , so quiet he might not hear it. She inspires a few time, to let go of the tension. The silence doesn’t bother her, and he doesn't seem phased either. That’s exactly what she wants. What she needs at the moment.

After a while, she feels his stare on her. He looks at his arm, his watch probably, then stands up. Before a take that first step towards the door, he speaks. “Next time, I’ll bring some coffee”.

**>>---> | <---<<**

It becomes their spot. They always meet there. Even if meet is a big word for just sitting next to each other in silence. Sometimes, he arrives after her. Sometimes, he’s already here. There are times where he’s not here, and those are the toughest, because she kinda needs him. She knows she lost her mojo. She often thinks she’s cursed. Her go-to-mood is “Not Enough”. Internally, she calls herself a fraud. She knows people are talking. Too young to have the knowledge. Too bubbly to be serious enough. Too smart for her own good. Too insecure to succeed. She’d learned long ago to be deaf to those comments. She heard them so much when she was in med school. But she knew her worth back then. It didn’t matter what everyone was thinking. She was the best at the time. But now? Now she knows they were right. She’s a failure. And the feeling doesn’t want to go away. How could it, when she keeps losing people on her table. That 60 years old should be alive and the teenager from yesterday too. But she was the one in charge of their cases when they arrived at the hospital, and she lost them. Again.

Maybe she should quit, she begins to think. She doesn’t know how she finds the courage to go back every day. Maybe it’s because he’s here too. She usually brushes the feelings right away. She can’t allow herself to think that. Of course he’s not the reason she comes to work. She doesn’t even know why he keeps coming to those stairs. Doesn’t he hear the talk ? Why isn’t he bothered by her failure ? He should run, not seek her presence. She should stop coming here too. It’s a sign of weakness, a way to escape the reality of the OR. Her own island.

But she can’t stop. She can’t. She needs the loneliness. She needs the quiet and the way the silence envelopes her when she’s alone. She needs this place to breathe and think and weep. She seeks the comfort he gives her too, even if she doesn’t want to admit it yet. She can’t dive into that right now. The hospital is a hard enough place for her to be without adding the complicated emotions he gives her to the mix. She needs to focus on her work, she can’t afford the luxury to be distracted by this guy and lose herself more in the process.

**>>---> | <---<<**

He always makes sure he has enough time to go check the stairs. Check on her if he's honest. On the days where he runs out of time and can't, he feels bad for missing her and it stays on his mind all night. He realizes he usually goes first thing the next morning when it happens. She’s not always there. And he takes that as a good sign. He quickly learned that she’s there when she’s sad. And even if it pleases him to see her, he doesn’t like when she seems down because of work. Especially when it’s so frequent these days. He would love to see her smile.

It happens five weeks after their first encounter. Not that he’s counting or anything. She’s already seated when he arrives, and she’s looking at the door, as if she was waiting for him. He catches a hint of a smile when she sees the two coffee cups he’s carrying that day. He takes his usual spot beside her and hands her her coffee. He loves the way she smells the beverage before drinking a sip of it. She always closes her eyes when she does it and all her features relax. He doesn’t even know if she’s aware that she’s doing it. He would be a fool to point it out, because what if she were to stop? Instead, he says nothing and just keeps bringing her coffee, hoping that she’ll continue. After a couple of minutes, she chuckles and shakes her head. When he turns towards her, she’s already looking at him.

“Guess I should introduce myself, if you keep bringing me coffee,” she finally says. “I’m Felicity”.

He shakes the hand she holds out to him. “Hi, I’m Oliver Queen”. She smiles again, and it’s bigger this time. He finds out he could become addicted real fast to this smile. “I’m a paramedic here” he adds, unwilling to let the silence take root again.

“I’d figured. I mean, the clothes are pretty telling.” she answers quickly. “It was that or you’re really into costumes and I don’t think you’re a dressing-up kind of guy” she babbles next, reddening.

His laugh is as unexpected as it is unnerving. So that’s one of the infamous Felicity’s babbles. Everyone warned him about her tendencies to speak without filters, and the awkward situations they caused. He doesn’t think it’s awkward. It’s even quite appealing. And refreshing too. When he looks at her, she seems mortified.

“I don’t know who would want to wear that type of outfit every day as a costume. Itchy fabrics and puke stains, that’s one hell of a dress down, if you ask me.” His answer seems to ease her, and she visibly relaxes. He’s about to add something when his beeper comes to life.

“Duty calls” she breathes, a hint of something in her voice he can’t decode just yet. “I’ll see you around, Dr. Smoak,” he says when he crosses the door. She realizes too late she didn’t say her name earlier.

He heard about her, she immediately thinks. All the bad rumors people of the hospital are telling, he must know about. But then, why is he still coming here to spend time with her ? Doesn’t he know she’s bad news ? And yet, she can’t help but hope he keeps coming back.

**>>---> | <---<<**

He’s funny, she learns. He tells jokes and bad puns when it’s early enough in the morning. He hasn’t seen too many horrors and blood on his shift to be tamed by the reality of their work. When he joins her around noon, he’s smiley but quiet. He enjoys the calm and her babbling. When he’s talkative, he shares about Dig, his partner on the ambo, and all the silly things they do together. She can always tell when he brings back teenagers at the hospital, because he always tells stories about his little sister. He often says she would love her, his Speedy.

He takes note of all the variations of her face. The way her eyes are wider and brighter when she talks about trauma surgery. The half-smile, always on the left, when he praises her work and she can’t take the compliment. She has freckles on her cheeks and nose. He likes it. He discovers she’s pretty bubbly sometimes. It’s rare but when she’s in the mood, it’s amazing. Her eyes shines and her cheeks are pinker, and she can’t stop talking with her hands. He can’t focus on anything else, because she wears the brightest nail-polish colors he’s ever seen. He cherishes those moments, aware he’s privy to a side of Felicity she’s not sharing with a lot of people in the hospital. He knows he’s lucky too because she doesn’t open up often. Even to him. The work is still hard and she still seems to struggle a lot. But he sticks with it, with her.

He doesn’t brood a lot. She often thinks he’s playful and optimistic. Even when he has a bad day, he tries to lower the stakes and highlight the good side of life. She knows he’s hiding a lot of pain, because she knows how hard the job can be. But she doesn’t pry. If he wants to share, I’ll be there to listen, she thinks. In the meantime, she lets herself believe he doesn’t need her help. She wouldn’t know how to help him anyway. She admits that he does not have many bad days. She realizes she has less and less too.

**>>---> | <---<<**

As quickly as her skills came back, the bad streak returns. First, it’s a middle-age athlete she has to amputate, despite three hours of surgery to try to save his leg. He’ll be lucky if he walks again, she thinks while crying on the stairs. Then, it’s that woman who won’t carry anymore children because she failed to stop the uterine hemorrhage she started while giving birth. She can’t even accept Oliver’s reassurance that she indeed saved her life in the process. The nail in her coffin arrived in the shape of a teenager, barely fifteen, severely wounded by a gunshot to the abdomen. Nobody in the ER wanted to deal with another kid from the Glades. But she had tried. “I can do it,” she kept repeating while operating, “I can save him, I know it. That artery isn’t that damaged,” she had thought. She could save this kid. Because he was just that, a kid. With a whole life before him, and a future to build. But being confident and mumbling to herself never saved somebody. She was a fool to think she could be the one to save him. And now he was dead, and she was here, on their stairs, waiting for his family to tell them he didn’t make it.

“This is not your fault,” he says that day, breaking the silence. “You can’t save everyone”. When she lifts her head, he’s looking at her with his big blue eyes, and she only sees kindness and compassion. She takes a breath, fighting for the tears to stay in her eyes.

Overwhelmed, she looks down, her hands shaking on her lap. She’s tired of fighting, tired of being strong. And that tiny comment he gave her? It’s what she desperately needs at the moment. So she allows herself to cave, just for a second, and simply puts her head on his shoulder. She can feel his muscles tensing, but barely, and if he’s surprised by the gesture, he doesn’t let it show. That’s the first time they touch. For him, it’s just a confirmation that he’s doing the right thing, even if it’s in tiny crumbs of time and words. For her, it’s everything.

**>>---> | <---<<**

“Why are you here, Oliver?” she asks one day. They are sitting next to each other, enjoying the late afternoon light that comes in from the windows, relieved that both of their days are finally over, and nothing (too) bad happened. 

He seems a little bit surprised by her question, but he catches himself quickly. He smiles, his eyes fixed on an invisible point on the staircase door, clearly lost in his own thoughts, then sighs, as if he’s ashamed of the answer he’s about to give her. If he’s honest, he’s surprised she waited so long to ask him that question. Of course, she’s curious. Why is he here ? Why does he keep coming back to this place, where most of the time, it’s only gloom and death that wait for him ? Sometimes, he asks himself the same question. When the days are hard, and the victims keep coming, when he’s feeling useless just because he has to carry another teen from the Glades, it’s difficult to keep the faith in his job. It could be so easy to give up and go back where he’s supposed to belong, where everyone is expecting him. But then, he thinks about all those faces he brought to the hospital. He thinks about those families he helped, those parts of life he got to extend while doing his job, and it's all worth it. He thinks of his sister, and the pride she takes when she tells people he’s saving lives. 

  
“My parents ask me the same question, at least once a month”. He’s better at sharing when the mood isn’t heavy, so he starts with a pirouette. “I guess I can’t give you the same answer I give them every single time”, he asks her, one eyebrow raised to emphasize the question.

“Let me guess,” she plays, “blue is your color?”

He can’t stop the laugh that comes out at her comment or the smile that creep its way up his face.

“Have you talked to Thea?” he asks her. “Well, that one works most of the time. The other one is that I just want to piss them off”. He sobers up after that. “I guess this one is close to the truth. Everyone expected me to do anything but this. I mean, it’s not like I have to work at all. My friends remind me of this everyday. But I don’t want to be just another trust fund child who uses money he didn’t earn. I don’t want to be that person. Not anymore” he adds. “I was a lost one, before. One of those kids who think everything is due to them because they happen to be born on the privileged side of life. The money, the parties, the girls… the drugs…. I had everything.” He stops for a moment, and she lets the silence do its work. When he talks again, his voice is a little broken. “After I overdosed, I realized it wasn’t a life. I spent a lot of time thinking about it in recovery. About how I could have died that day”.

“I kinda did” he breathes, “I coded before arriving at the hospital. Without the paramedic...” he stops after that, lost in his thoughts, before continuing. “I tried to study at school but it was too late. My father wanted to have me at the company, but it didn’t feel right.I wanted to be useful, you know ? Since I wasn’t smart enough to be a doctor, I became a paramedic. Pissing off my parents is a bonus.” The wink he gives her lightens the atmosphere for a moment.

“That’s very noble” she finally comments. “I knew Queen should have rung a bell when I first heard it.” She adds with a smile. “I totally get the appeal to help those in need,” she’s serious now, “and I find it very brave to fight the obvious and the easy path life has given you. It’s not always easy to go against the flow. To be the outsider. The one who isn’t supposed to be there” She realizes they have more in common than she thought at first. Funny how life goes, right? Maybe she isn’t the only one who struggles with the pressure this job puts on them.

But when she looks at him, all she sees is this confident man, with a warm smile and so much life in his eyes. His words are always faithful and he brings so much light when he’s beside her, she sometimes think she will tarnish him with her darkness. He shouldn’t be here, she thinks, it doesn’t make sense at all. He’s here, day after day, and all she brings to him are meltdowns and doubts. What can he possibly find in their meetings that helps him on the job ?

“But… Why help me ?” she whispers, after a second of silence. “I know I was like every other patient, a damsel in distress of sorts, and I'll be forever grateful you stayed to be sure I wasn’t going to do anything stupid, but…” She struggles with her thoughts, and he respects her silence even if he wants to contradict her.

“But?” he encourages her to continue.

“Why did you keep coming back? Why would you choose to help me? We didn’t know each other, and it’s clearly not my reputation that did it either.”

“I don’t know,” he sincerely replies, before pausing. “At first, you were there, and you needed help. I don’t know why I went to sit with you. There was just something about you.” She chuckles at that, clearly not expecting that answer.

“Yeah, I have one of those faces” she jokes, trying to deflect.

Suddenly, he fully faces her, his face serious when he looks at her. “Don’t undermine yourself, please, Felicity. You’re not a damsel I needed to save. You’re not a charity case either.”

“The first time, I guess I was touched by your vulnerability, but what marked me the most was your altruism. Even when you were crying, you weren’t doing it because of yourself, but on behalf of those you lost.Coming back, I was amazed and inspired by your compassion, your strength and your resilience. All those times, I wasn’t just being there for you. I was doing it for me too.”

She’s obviously stunned by his tirade, and even if he doesn’t regret one single word he said, he’s afraid she isn’t ready to hear them. But he sees her face relax, her mouth changed in a pout he could easily kiss right now. She finally smiles, one of those genuine curves of her lips he craves to witness, and takes his hand between both of hers. “Thank you,” she breathes, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thank you for believing in me when I didn’t even believed in myself”.

**>>---> | <---<<**

He’s already here when she arrives. It’s not unprecedented but it isn’t usual either. She’s about to greet him with a comment when she realize something’s wrong. His head is down and he does that tic with his fingers, the one he does when he’s not well. She keeps her comments to herself and quickly reviews the patients they’ve got in the morning. It’s when she sits next to him that the thought hits her. The overdose on Vertigo. Brought from Verdant, coded in the ambo, pronounced dead when they arrived at the hospital.

Her heart aches for him in that instant. She hates the fact he was the one having to go and pick that victim up, she hates that he had to practice CPR on a girl who reminds him that he was the one at this place not long ago.

“Oliver, I’m so sorry” she says, putting her hand on his.

All she sees is his face crumble and hears his breathing catch in his throat, and instantly she reacts. She angles her body towards him, her arms enveloping his back, and he leans into her, hiding in her shoulder. And when she feels him sob, his tears finally coming down silently, all she can do is try to soothe him the best she can. She lets him lose it, because he needs it, and because it’s the most natural thing to do at the moment. After a while, he seems more at peace and relaxed, but he doesn’t move from the spot he took in the crook of her neck. It’s okay, she thinks, because she likes the way they fit perfectly.

He should be embarrassed to be so vulnerable in her presence, while he’s supposed to be the strong one in their unique relationship. But after today, he's glad he doesn’t have to go back to his family, and face their concern. He’s glad to have this place, to have her. He tries to fight the anger, the sadness. But he’s not immune to the horrors he sees on the job, even if it gets better. Usually, he waits to be at home to ease the feelings. He runs, he goes to the gym. Sometimes he cooks to think about anything else but the blood, the smells, the screams. But today, he doesn’t want to go home. He doesn’t want to wait. He wants to scream, to yell at the world and wallow in his own pity for a moment. And he wants to see her. It’s selfish, he knows it, but he can’t fight it. So he goes to their stairs, and he waits for her, trying to rein in his feelings until he can’t take it anymore. When she finally appears, he’s more calm, and he tries to hide his turmoil, aware it’s not fair to put more on her plate. But there’s something about her that brings out so many things from him, the good and the bad, the hope and the pain. And when he finally lets go and uses her body as a shield, he finds solace in the silence that envelops them, and the warmth that exudes from their bodies.

She realizes her hand has ended up on his head, caressing him while he sobs, and she’s not embarrassed even one little bit by the gesture. Because this time, she’s the one who has helped, and it’s the greatest feeling in the world.

**>>---> | <---<<**

"Do you think it goes away?” She asks him one day. “That feeling of not being good enough.” She looks so vulnerable he can’t help the desire to engulf her in a hug and protect her from the world to rise.

“I don’t know,” he simply replies, “I haven’t reached that stage yet.” She nods, sharing the sentiment. “But I don’t think it should happen either,” he adds, “Doubt is important, it forces us to pay attention more. Being cocky in the job isn’t a quality any doctor should have, in my opinion. The best ones are those who doubt themselves and always question their judgment”. He looks at her quickly, to make a point. “You’re in the good category, Felicity”

She raises an eyebrow, questioning his last statement, and bumps her shoulder into his. “Guess that weird therapy thing we have together needs to keep going a little more,” she half-jokes.

He tries to hide his smile, and he knows he’s failing, but he doesn’t care. He wishes she could do the same, smile, live, be free, be herself. But she’s already lost in her head again, where doubts are too many today.

“Dance with me,” he says, out of the blue. Her brows frown.

“What?” she replies, shaking her head. “But… why?” she questions, unable to fully understand what he’s really asking her. By the time she gives her answer, he’s already up, in front of her. He extends a hand toward her, repeating his invite.

“Dance with me, Felicity.”

She doesn’t know why she agrees, or even if she controls her legs anymore, but she stands up and her right hand immediately finds its place in his left one. She bends her left arm against her own chest, curling herself up against his torso, in a movement that feels so natural she doesn't question it.

“Why?” she asks again, once they’ve started to sway gently. His arm is on her back, his hand between her shoulder blades, warm and comforting. He’s humming a song she can’t recognize, and his voice makes his chest rumble a little. She finds out she likes the feeling of it.

“Sometimes, life isn’t easy to deal with,” he replies after a while, “and trying to understand it makes us tense and broody. Not that I’m saying you’re broody, but…” He stops a little, afraid he's upset her. But she doesn’t react, doesn’t even lift her head, so he continues. “My mother used to say that dance is a gift made to the humans to appease the body and the soul. I didn’t understand the meaning of it when I was younger, but now, I can see why she thinks that way.”

His voice is deep and she chokes up a little at his answer. When she lifts her head, he’s already looking at her. She looks for humor and malice on his face, so used to disappointment and deception, but his eyes hold nothing but kindness and sincerity in them. A small smile curves his lips, and her eyes are drawn to his mouth like a moth to a flame. When she reaches his eyes again, she knows he's caught her looking at his lips. And yet, she doesn’t care. Slowly, he lowers his head, as if he’s scared to spook her somehow. He stops right before their lips can touch, mindful of her, not wanting to force her into something she wouldn’t desire. Their breaths mingle a moment, her mind in overdrive. She’s about to close the gap when his beeper comes to life. He sighs, eyes still closed, his head bending again a little before rising, his nose caressing her own. Their foreheads touch for a moment, and it feels like time has stopped altogether. “Next time.” he finally whispers into her ear, right before leaving her here, heavily breathing, to respond to that call.

**>>---> | <---<<**

When the staircase door bursts open, he fears the worst. But Felicity is literally beaming while she runs towards him. “I made it, Oliver! I can’t believe I did it!” she screams happily. She stops for an instant, giving him a quick and unexpected hug, and starts pacing the hallway.

“You should have seen it, it was a mess! I’m not sure how I did it but it was exhilarating,” she says, barely breathing with all the excitement. “Three victims, all coming together, and I was alone. McKenna was already on a surgery, and they all needed to be treated right then. “So, I said 'well, put them in those three contiguous rooms, and I’ll do it'. I mean, I couldn’t do the three simultaneously, I’m no Superman” she babbles in a tangent. “Or should I say Superwoman? Does she even exist?” He shakes his head at her rambling. She must have noticed because she stops before resuming her story.

“Anyway. I’m there, in the OR, and I repair that valve, and I have to let Caitlin close her, she has always been better than me at doing stitches anyway, and I go treat the second one. Then the third. And my gosh, it was scary but exhilarating! The blood, the tension, the adrenaline! And just like that, they’re all well, and saved, and no one died, Oliver! Three of them and not one died on my table!”

She calms down a bit, and coming in front of him, she finally looks at his face. “Thank you, Oliver” she says, a soft smile illuminating her features.

He’s surprised, she can tell. “For what?” He asks, incredulous. “I didn’t exactly help, here”.

She chuckles at that, grabbing his shoulders with both her hands.

“Of course you helped,” she counters. “That success today, you’re a big part of it. Don’t you know? I couldn’t do it without you, Oliver. I wouldn’t have been able to do those surgeries a few months back. I would have crumbled, lost my mind and probably fled the scene. Hell, I probably would have tried to do it and failed miserably, causing the death of those people. But all those months, you were there, believing in me, and you brought me what I needed the most at the time. You gave me the liberty to let go, when I needed to lose it. You were a shoulder to cry on, and a friend to confide in. Most of all, you had faith in me, even when I kept failing everyone.” Her voice breaks a little, charged with emotion.

When she speaks again, her voice is soft and she’s looking at him intensely. “You believed in me, Oliver, you gave me hope I could one day be as good as you were seeing me.”

He needs a minute to recover and understand what she’s saying. And when he does, nothing really matters because all he sees is her. Her eyes shine, her cheeks are pink from the excitement, and her smile is blinding. All he wants to do is kiss her and never let her go.

So he does just that. The moment his lips touch her own, he knows he made the right call to stay with her that first day, on those stairs that became theirs. Her lips are trembling a little, but she doesn’t seem surprised by his action, as if she was waiting for him to just do this. His hand cups her cheek and she leans into him without reservations. They kiss for a couple of minutes, enjoying the feeling of discovering each other a little more while realizing it feels like they’ve been doing this for a decade.

They stop a second to catch their breath, and he’s about to close the gap between them again when his beeper goes off. For the first time, he hears Felicity groan, right before she puts her forehead against his chest. “I hate that thing.” she whispers loudly, making him laugh.

She slowly detaches herself from him, angling her body to let him walk towards the door.

“Come,” he simply says as his hand opens towards her. “Let me offer you a coffee in a nicer place, for once.”

“What?” She asks “You want me to... but... that call ...” she stutters, surprised.

“Oh, that? Don’t worry,” he says, “it’s only a reminder to push me to ask you on a date. Guess I didn’t need it after all.” She smirks at that, not saying a word, and simply places her hand in his. Her head leans against his shoulder, her eyes closing at how perfect it feels.

**>>---> | <---<<**

The next time she goes in that special set of stairs, it’s because the man she loves asked her to join him here. They usually meet outside of the hospital, whenever they can, sometimes just for a few minutes before they are being called away on another intervention.

But it’s okay. She doesn’t need their meeting like she did before. She doesn’t need the constant reassurance, she’s not doubting herself as much anymore. But he’s still the reason she’s working everyday to be the best trauma surgeon, just because he believes she is.

When she enters the staircase, all she can see is Oliver, sitting on the stairs, elbows on his knees, head down. But he’s smiling when he finally looks at her, and she blinks just a second when she catches the little black box he’s holding in his hands.

She doesn’t need an actual question, she doesn’t even need words, the beginning of their story showed them that, after all. So, she just runs into his arms and kisses him, and soon, their laughs of joy resonate in their little space.

And when she finally exits the staircase, Oliver kissing the hand that holds her engagement ring, she just hopes they will have time to celebrate together, before being called to save another set of lives. They are pretty good at that, after all.

**>>---> **END** <---<<**

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think ;)  
Twitter : @thisiselley


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